by Lisa Hill
‘Yes, and now to take a massive bollocking from our parents,’ he said, taking her hand firmly in his.
Rebecca sighed. ‘Do I have to?’ Now he’d kissed her, her steely determination to sort this situation out had abandoned her again.
‘Come on, you’ve just shown me the bossy, assertive Rebecca I grew to love; I know she’s still in there.’
‘I only bring her out on special occasions these days.’
James grinned down at her, his face full of adoration. ‘Well, I think this is one of them.’
***
Pamela sipped the cup of tea Drew had brought to her and looked out of the refreshments tent at the bright sunshine beating down on the flattened grass, now that the fete had been in full swing for a few hours. Children ran past with bags of candyfloss and helium balloons, parents followed, reaching into pockets for more change for their children to spend on rides and games. There was an air of laughter and frivolity all around her and yet she couldn’t help but feel utterly miserable. It was silly to feel like this, she knew. She had got her wish and been reunited with Jean and yet Jean and Audrey were sitting at a table, a few away from her, engrossed and nattering amicably, Drew had returned to help Lottie, James had run off in pursuit of Rebecca, and Jack had abandoned her to go and sell plants. She knew she was being silly, she knew that everyone had a job to do, but it was giving her that horrible feeling of when Edward used to leave and she would rattle around the empty house on her own.
It was an overwhelming feeling of being alone; one she had tried so hard to rectify.
She was just about to get up and go and join Audrey and Jean when the entrance to the tent suddenly darkened as James and Rebecca stood there, scanning the room. She had to concede as she watched from her vantage point, tucked in the corner, that they did make a striking couple. And she really needed to remember that if Edward hadn’t had his fling with Rebecca, she wouldn’t have had the courage to explore her feelings for Jack. Rebecca’s gaze settled on Pamela. James whispered something in her ear and Pamela watched as she shook her head, before making some tentative steps towards where Pamela was sitting. Pamela returned to nursing her cup of tea, twisting the paper cup around and around in her hands, looking into the depths of the dregs as if they might forecast the future for her.
‘Mind if I sit down?’ Rebecca asked, her normally forthright, cut-glass accent sounding croaky and nervous.
‘Do what you want, my dear, you normally do.’ Pamela didn’t look up. In her peripheral vision she could see Rebecca sit down and cross her slim, skinny jeaned legs. Her foot waggled like a dog’s tail, up and down.
‘I’ve thought about this conversation for so long but now it’s finally happening, I still don’t know what to say.’ Rebecca paused, and the chitchat of the refreshments tent filled their awkward silence. She took a deep breath. ‘So, I’m just going to say this; I’m sorry. I genuinely am, I don’t know what happened to me; I took leave of my senses, I guess, because it was foolish and stupid and, God knows, I’ve been paying the price ever since—’
‘You still work for Hardwickes,’ Pamela interrupted.
‘Believe me, I’ve tried my hardest to leave.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘I told you; I tried. At first, I was stunned,’ she shrugged, ‘perhaps the foolish part of me thought Edward might even return, especially when I found out you and Jack had become an item—’
Pamela dropped her gaze, feeling as guilty as Rebecca looked.
‘—then, when James turned up, last month, I decided it was time to go. I gave my notice in, but he refused to accept it.’
Pamela looked around for her son and saw he was helping Drew serve refreshments. They were mucking about and laughing like they did when they were younger, always a pair of scallywags. She was transported back to memories of them growing up and realised that in all those memories, Edward was absent. Like he’d never even existed. James suddenly stopped laughing and looked over at her. He smiled and waved his tea towel. That encouraging smile he had always given her; the one when she was heartbroken after Edward’s latest betrayal.
‘Do you know,’ Pamela said, absently, ‘he was my rock when he discovered Edward was having an affair. He was only fourteen. If it hadn’t been for him, I think I may have slipped into alcoholism, even worse perhaps.’ She turned back to Rebecca, to see her looking stunned. ‘You weren’t the first, my dear.’
‘Fourteen?’
‘That wasn’t the first affair.’ Pamela paused and looked up at the billowing tent roof as she tried to think. ‘I think that was perhaps the third or fourth time.’ She returned her gaze to see Rebecca’s jaw had dropped and her perfect, little rosebud lips parted like a Venus fly trap.
Pamela laughed. ‘You didn’t seriously think you were the first?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘I did,’ she said absently, pulling at the paper table cloth and twisting the end of it. ‘Until Jack came to my apartment that day and eluded otherwise. That was when I realised what a horrendous mistake I’d made.’
‘Did you love him?’
Rebecca looked up at Pamela and bit her bottom lip. ‘I thought I did,’ she said, eventually.
Pamela nodded and cast her mind back to the day she had left Harrogate, not long after her eighteenth birthday, after a monumental argument with her father who had forbidden her to see Edward again.
She thought she had loved Edward too.
Suddenly she found herself laughing. Tears streamed from the corner of her eyes and down her cheeks. Once she would have been horrified to ruin her make-up like this, crying in public, but being with Jack had changed her so much that she found she didn’t care. The old Pamela wouldn’t have wanted to have shown her weakness to the enemy either, but as she sat there laughing and crying simultaneously, she realised what everyone had been trying to tell her forty years ago and now.
Rebecca looked at her cautiously, most probably wondering whether Pamela had finally cracked.
‘You know, I always thought you were like the daughter I’d never had.’
Rebecca bowed her head and focused on twisting more of the paper tablecloth.
‘We used to have a good relationship, didn’t we?’ Pamela continued.
Rebecca nodded but didn’t look up. ‘And I betrayed that relationship, that trust.’
Pamela found herself laughing even more. ‘No more than I did when I chose him over my family.’
Rebecca looked up, her face a picture of astonishment. She frowned. ‘I think what I did was a little worse.’
Pamela wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘My dear, while you were busy being the pawn in one of Edward’s games of chess,’ she watched Rebecca wince at Pamela’s verbalisation of what she actually was to Edward, ‘I was busy procuring a relationship with Jack. Not a physical relationship, admittedly, but perhaps one on a higher level than you were with Edward.’
Rebecca pursed her lips. ‘You mean mine was just physical and yours was something more meaningful?’
Pamela smiled. She was going to make it up with Rebecca, for James’ sake if no-one else’s, but it felt nice to have the upper hand, just for a brief moment.
Rebecca nodded. ‘I guess you’re right.’
Pamela reached out and dragged Rebecca’s hand away from almost twisting the paper tablecloth off. ‘Rebecca, we’ve both been played by Edward. He always gets what he wants, and I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like I did.’
A faint smile whispered at the corner of Rebecca’s lips. ‘And I shouldn’t have slept with your husband.’
Pamela squeezed Rebecca’s hands tight as tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. She smiled. ‘Well, I suppose it was good someone did; I hadn’t slept with him for well over a decade.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lottie looked out of the window at the stores as a removal lorry mounted the pavement, struggling to get past the flowing traffic in Clunderton’s high street, with cars parked out
side the shop. Navigating behind were Rebecca and James in his sporty Land Rover, packed to the rafters with duvets and cushions.
‘Blimey, Rebecca didn’t waste any time,’ Lottie said absently, returning to flicking through the latest copy of Hi! magazine from behind the counter. She hadn’t seen much of Rebecca since the fete. Now that her and James had finally given into their feelings for one another, she’d been given the brush off from their cosy lunchtime meet-ups, with Rebecca favouring to lunch with James instead. Lottie understood but she had quite enjoyed their business lunches, discussing the market as well as girl chat and it left Lottie feeling uneasy that Rebecca might return to her old, flighty ways.
Jack, who had been rearranging the chocolate bars on the display in front of the counter, paused and craned his neck to follow Lottie’s gaze out of the white-painted, wrought iron windows. ‘Pam’s been fussing over this move all week. I was glad to be shadowing Johnnie and not get involved.’
Lottie raised an eyebrow. ‘Still not a fan of Rebecca, then?’
‘No, I like Rebecca but it’s another distraction for Pam from moving the divorce forward. The first hearing is scheduled for the week after next; she’s got a lot of preparation to do before then.’
‘Like what?’ Having never been divorced, thankfully, it was one area in which Lottie had little expertise.
‘Her solicitor wants as much background as possible on their financial history; savings accounts, business accounts, property that Edward might not have declared on his financial statement.’
Lottie let out a low whistle. ‘Blimey, they’ve been married over forty years; that’s a lot of paperwork to sift through.’
‘If she’s even got any of it; a crafty bastard like Edward wasn’t likely to leave stuff like that lying around, was he? She doesn’t even have a bank account in her own name; he made her use their joint one or his credit card.’
Lottie raised an eyebrow at the thought of what joys Pamela probably got up to in the department stores of Oxford in her heyday, with Edward’s credit card.
‘Would Jude be of any help? She has A-levels in this sort of thing, what with the state Philandering Phil left their finances in.’
Jack pushed a box of neatly stacked, artisan chocolate bars back into its slot. ‘I don’t think so, but thanks for the offer. This is something she’s got to do herself; instead of getting involved in James’ and Rebecca’s relationship or planning this wedding. There won’t be a wedding if she doesn’t get divorced!’
‘Is it still booked for September?’
Jack stood back and placed his hands on the hips of his stone-washed jeans he was wearing. ‘Yes.’
It was the end of June now. ‘That’s just over two months!’
Jack held his hand up. ‘Don’t go there, Lottie. Reverend Eckersley said he would hold our booking a little while longer, but he really wants to see Pam’s decree nisi; it’s going to be touch and go. Can you see Edward playing ball?’
‘Not if he finds out you’re getting married.’
Jack continued to rearrange the shelves. She eyed him sceptically. He had lost some of his sprightliness, she felt, since moving out of Church End and into the Old Rectory. She rather suspected Pamela was being waited on hand, foot and finger by him. She bit her bottom lip and hesitated to ask what he was thinking but being ‘naturally curious’ – as Jack had always called it – she really needed to know.
‘Um, you do still want to marry her, don’t you?’
‘Of course, I do!’ Jack laughed.
Lottie smiled, relieved. There had been no hesitation in his voice.
‘What makes you ask?’
Because I’ve yet to see an engagement ring on Pamela’s finger.
She shrugged. ‘Just, um, checking, shall we say. You’ve roped me into help at the stores today. I was a bit worried all might not be peaceful in paradise.’
‘Wild horses wouldn’t have stopped her getting involved in that move.’
‘I’m surprised; I’m glad she’s patched things up with Rebecca but I thought she’d still be retaining some distance.’
‘Well, she might not want to go through all of her finances for the past four decades, but she has come to her senses and realised Rebecca is her best hope at pinning adultery on Edward, which would speed the divorce up, apparently. The solicitor says she can get the decree absolute, which would allow us to marry, even if the finances haven’t been resolved. Plus, she wasn’t over enthused I’d offered to run the stores for Johnnie and Louise for a whole week.’
Lottie leant on the counter. ‘I wonder what made them decide to have a holiday. We’ve lived here five years now and I’ve never known them to have a break; they only close on days like Christmas and Easter.’
‘I get the impression Johnnie might have seen the error of his ways.’
‘What ways?’
‘Getting so engrossed in all this VOCAB stuff. Think Louise might have been a bit fed up with it all.’
‘You know,’ Lottie said, thinking back to when she was organising the fete. ‘She wasn’t happy and that’s really not like Louise, is it? She was on about doing something for her.’
‘Reminds me of last year when you were hell bent on setting up on your own.’
‘Yes, it is a bit.’ Lottie smiled, thinking about just how far she had come.
‘Let’s hope Louise doesn’t get distracted by some hot stuff like Tom Thorpe to lure her off the beaten track.’
Lottie scowled at her father. ‘Neither did I,’ she said, giving the magazine a heavy flick.
‘No,’ Jack chuckled, ‘but not before you ended up in the national press as his latest bit of fluff! Anyway, stop fingering the goods and set to it; there’s a pallet of fresh bread over there which needs going in the baskets. I’m going down to the tearooms to check on Audrey.’
‘Ugh,’ Lottie groaned, ‘I would have been better off going into HG1 today,’ she said, plonking the magazine back in the rack.
‘But you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of your wonderful father’s company.’ Jack winked. ‘Ta-ra,’ he said, turning and heading off down the shop.
Lottie eyed the pallet with something resembling contempt. It wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning yet; what on earth was she doing fully dressed, with an apron on, ready to serve in the stores? She dragged herself off the stool and was about to set to it, as Jack had so eloquently put it, when a chink of light glinted and she was drawn to the person disembarking from their car outside the stores. A sleek, black car, with some very long, denim-clad legs emerging. Lottie froze. She only knew one person with the registration plate, AGENT1.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Considering Rebecca had finally put her money where her mouth was and moved to the village and her and Mum seemed to have managed to patch things up – they were currently discussing which set of Rebecca’s curtains would look best in the living room of her new cottage – James felt he should be the happiest man alive.
But he wasn’t.
Something was up, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Since their kiss at the fete a couple of weeks ago, they had decided to give things a go, as Rebecca had put it. Her flat had been put on the market to rent through HG1 and Rebecca had taken the lease for Betty’s cottage, so they could be nearer each other. She had eluded to him staying over at the cottage, something she wouldn’t entertain at her flat – which James put down to something to do with Edward, but he didn’t like to press her on it – and with that tantalising carrot being dangled of finally getting her naked, he’d booked them a hotel room in Harrogate last night. He’d taken the afternoon off work to help her and the removal chaps pack up her flat, ready for the move to Clunderton this morning. He’d chosen the Hotel Du Vin on West Park as it was practically next door to Hardwickes and not far from her flat, down in Montpellier. He’d thought he’d read all the signs right. They’d had a quick dip in the jacuzzi, dressed for dinner in their luxury hotel suite, dined and drank too much Chateauneuf de
Pape, before getting intimate, with his hands exploring all over her body. Up until that point, she’d said she’d wanted to take things slowly, which he’d respected. Rebecca was the one; he’d get down on one knee and propose if he wasn’t scared it would put her off. But, when it had come to the crucial moment, when they’d got back to their hotel suite, she’d said she was so drunk and tired that she would have to show him a good time another night, leaving him with his ballbag ready to explode.
He watched her now in her floaty grey sweat top, tight black runners, neon pink trainers and a messy topknot, and everything started to stir again in his trousers.
It was all very confusing, to say the least.
‘Darling, what do you think?’ Pamela turned to James.
James looked vacantly between the two women, all traces of resentment and fear between them seemingly vanished.
Rebecca smiled. ‘You weren’t listening, were you?’
‘Um, I may have been appreciating the curves of your figure more than the style of the décor.’
‘Oh, James, what you are you like!’ Pamela batted her hand in his direction. ‘Men! They’re all the same; Jack’s more interested in what plants we have in the garden instead of what colour we redecorate the kitchen.’
‘Redecorate? You only moved in there last year!’
‘I know, but,’ Pamela shrugged, ‘you know.’
James frowned down at his petite mother. ‘No.’
‘Well, that was for me and your father. Now Jack lives with me, it just doesn’t seem right.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Rebecca knows what I mean, don’t you dear?’
Rebecca nodded, pursing her lips to stifle what looked like a laugh clinging to the corner of her lips, still holding the heavy drapes in her arms.
James folded his arms. ‘I’m still none the wiser.’
‘Well, it’s no different to Rebecca not wanting you to stay at her flat. She—’